


Curl

by lovebashed



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Early in Canon, M/M, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebashed/pseuds/lovebashed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard finds Frank tied to the seatbelt in the back of their tour van. Sexytimes ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle X, in 2010.

Mikey once spent an entire Saturday afternoon in his room reading about knots from a worn-out rummage sale-copy of Cub Scout's handbook even though it was the heart of the summer, the temperature so high that Gerard had toyed with the idea of taking off his shirt. In the evening Mikey practised his knots on Gerard, Mom and Dad, tying them all together by the wrists with a white string, not letting them go until Dad pinkie-promised to give back all of Mikey's pirated VHS tapes that he had confiscated the night before.

 _This_ , Gerard thinks, fumbling for his key while peering in the van through the finger-smudgy window, watching as Frank plays his acoustic guitar inside like nothing's the matter, like everything's totally normal, _this has Mikey written all over it._

He jabs the key in the keyhole and pulls the door open, crawling in, crunching a half-eaten bag of chips under his ass. Frank stops playing, the stretch of shoelace behind him making a grating sound as it slides against the seatbelt. He gives Gerard a quick once-over, then goes back to the song.

The tune is familiar in the way the aches in his body are after a long tour. He can feel the next chords before Frank even strums them, sounds rocking him like waves.

Frank's face is half-hidden behind dark shadows but Gerard can still make out black lines and smudges on his cheek, and when he looks closer, he thinks it's definitely a dick that he sees, with come spurting out of the tip.

It's a funny sight. Frank's face is intensely focused on the song, but the sharpied dick kind of ruins the picture.

Besides, he's totally tied to the seatbelt by his belt loop.

"Tell your brother," Frank says suddenly, wrapping his hand around the neck of the guitar, then leaning clumsily down as he lays it down on the floor. "That I'm gonna punch him in the face."

"As soon as you figure out how to get yourself free," Gerard finishes for him, trying to keep a reasonably straight face when Frank just glares at him.

"So what. Are you just gonna sit there all night like a motherfucker, or are you gonna help me out?" Frank tries to shuffle his body once more, but gets yanked back and thrown against the seat. "Goddamn it."

"How did this happen?" Gerard grins, feeling very gleeful. He pulls his body closer to Frank, remembering the guitar on the floor and then trying not to kick it as he stretches out his leg, folding the other one under his ass. He makes Frank turn around so that he can see the whole thing better. The shoelace is hooked around the seatbelt and tied to a belt loop on the back of Frank's jeans, far enough that Frank can't really reach it without his arms cramping. Gerard can see where Frank's tried to claw himself free, the lace is worn and thinner there, short threads sticking out of the tight braid.

"Fuck knows. I woke up like this. The one night I don't wanna party it up and that fucking dickface decides to tie me to my seat."

"Watch it, Frankie, that's my kid brother you're talking about," Gerard says out of some inbred loyalty to Mikey. He's trying to loosen the knot, but finds the stripe of bare, irritated skin just above the waist of Frank's jeans where his tee-shirt's all rucked up terribly distracting.

The problem is that he's watched Bert and Quinn sucking face most of the evening, and his dick's still throbbing against the seam of his sweaty jeans. He realizes with some horror that the close proximity to Frank is making his dick throb twice as eagerly as it ever did watching those two. Frank's just so warm and pretty and sweet-smelling, sitting so close, and Gerard's been hard for a while. It's all totally unfair.

"Gee?" Frank asks. Gerard thinks he sounds a little worried. He tries to turn around but the position just pushes him deeper in the vee of Gerard's legs.

"Hang on," Gerard says, his voice coming out all squeaky. He clears his throat while trying to convince himself that his face isn't half as red as it feels like it might be. He paws at the string helplessly, realizing his whole body's breaking into a sweat.

"Do you have a pocket knife or something?" Frank suggests, peering over his shoulder. Gerard drops his hands in his lap, feeling self-conscious, biting back a moan at the added pressure to his dick. Frank gives him an odd look, staring at his hands. "Hey, um--"

 _Don't say it_ , Gerard thinks all the while pressing his dick with the heel of his palm, not able to resist it. _Just don't fucking say it_. "A knife," he blurts out, grasping at straws. "Um, I can go look for one? I, uh -- I should have one in my bag, I think. I definitely packed one before we left."

"Okay," Frank agrees, leaning forward as Gerard struggles to get up. "Just don't fucking leave me here."

"I won't, I won't," Gerard says, wading through piles of crap. He makes a face at the pair of boxers he picks up from the top of his comic book stack, black sharpie ink on the waistband declaring it the property of Michael James Way. "Fucking hell, maybe Brian wasn't wrong in calling us pigs."

"Speak for yourself," Frank retorts, and Gerard's belly makes a whoop when Frank starts to giggle.

"Aha!" he exclaims, reaching out to grab someone's nail scissors from the plastic, neon green ash tray, holding them up in the air like he's made a great discovery. He feels silly and light-headed, like the beers he had out by the bonfire had just now kicked in.

"Jeez, that's disgusting. Whose are those? No wait. Actually, don't tell me, I don't need to know that. I bet they smell like toe gunk."

Gerard makes a face, shuffling back to Frank. "Okay, just. Hold still for me," he says, dropping into the long seat. He takes the string between his fingers and feeling brave, makes a point of running his knuckles along Frank's bare skin before cutting him loose. Frank exhales sharply, touching the trail of Gerard's hand like the skin there is burning.

"Thanks," he says, turning around to face him. "Right now? You're totally my favorite Way."

Gerard grins and Frank swoops in for a hug.

"You have a dick on your cheek," he says when Frank pulls away.

"What?" Frank huffs out a laugh, cutely confused. Gerard rubs his thumb along Frank's cheekbone, tracing the inked lines.

"Someone drew a dick on your cheek. It doesn't look like it's coming off any time soon."

"What the actual fuck? Are you serious? I hate everyone!" He scrubs his cheek with vigor, but Gerard stills his hand when the skin starts to turn pink.

Then he bursts out into a loud, belly-itching laugh.

"Oh, really? Is that how it's gonna be?" Frank does a lazy job at faking his exasperation. His face scrunches up and then he starts to giggle, digs his fingers into Gerard's soft, ticklish sides, giving them a painful squeeze.

"Nooo," Gerard wails, trying to wrestle Frank off of him before things get embarrassing, but his dick's already showing too much interest in the events.

They struggle for a while until Frank presses him down and rolls his hips against Gerard's, holding tightly to his wrists, weighing him down. "Frank, wha--?"

"You're totally hard," Frank says more soberly, his eyes clear and smiling.

And, fuck. This is it, this is totally the last time Frank's ever gonna be this close to him. Ever. His stomach makes a sad lurch, but his dick's just not catching up. It's still pressing against his zipper like it's desperately trying to poke a hole through his jeans. "I'm sorry! I -- fuck, Frank. I don't know what to say."

"What're you sorry for?" Frank asks, taking Gerard's hand and guiding it down, pulling his lip between his teeth as he makes Gerard cup him through his jeans.

And then it dawns on him. _Frank's totally into this_.

A slow grin splits Gerard's face in half. He starts palming Frank's dick with intent, totally amazed that Frank's on the same page with him. "Nothing. I changed my mind, I'm not sorry about anything."

"Good." Frank lets out a delicious moan, then leans in to press a kiss on Gerard's lips. And fuck. This has to be Gerard's new favorite thing, kissing Frank. Frank kisses like he plays his guitars, puts his whole mind to it, fierce and focused. For a while that's all they really do, mouths sliding wetly against each other, Gerard's teeth tugging at Frank's lip ring, his tongue toying with it.

Their teeth clash painfully when Frank struggles to sit up. He tugs at the waist of Gerard's jeans, thumbing the button and zipper undone, worming his hand inside. He scratches at the wiry, sweaty strands of hair and pulls Gerard's dick out, grinning lewdly at the strangled noise Gerard makes at the back of his throat. He wraps his fist around Gee's dick and starts jacking him, squeezing the head and swiping his thumb over, precome making the slide easy.

"I wanna suck you," Frank says before swooping down to cocoon Gerard's dick in his mouth. Gerard groans at the wet, warm feeling, cupping Frank's head in his palms. Frank's hair is hedgehog-short but soft like feathers, and Gerard can't stop running his hands along his skull, mapping the bumps and valleys on the back of his head. The sharpie-inked dick on Frank's face changes shape when Frank suddenly hollows his cheeks, and Gerard would surely appreciate the irony if he wasn't so far gone now, if he could still form coherent thoughts.

"Frank, your fucking mouth," he hears his own voice through some wonderful, muzzy haze. His hand slips down to Frank's neck, over his shoulders, massaging his tee-shirt covered back before drifting up again. He hugs the shell of Frank's ear with his fingers, scrabbling for something to hold on to.

When Frank abruptly pulls away and rests his face on Gerard's hip, Gerard almost weeps. "Frank," he whines because he's so close, so close he can taste it.

"Shit, just. Hold on," Frank rasps out, turning his head to mouth at Gerard's pelvis, his short stubble making Gerard's skin feel raw. "I got you," he adds as he shifts his body and pushes up to his knees. "I just gotta get outta these fucking pants, my dick's getting smushed."

Gerard can't decide whether to help Frank or touch himself, so he clumsily tries both until Frank, his boxers and skin-tight jeans clinging to his thighs and dick already hanging out, gets frustrated and slaps his hand away. He struggles out of the jeans and underwear, wiggling his leg to free his ankle. The clothes land in a heap on his guitar with a grating, out of tune sound.

Then Gerard has a lapful of hot, sweaty, writhing Frank. He exhales shakily as Frank tucks his dick in the fold of Gerard's groin and starts rocking his hips and palming Gerard's dick while whining into his neck. And that does it, makes Gerard squeeze his eyes shut and slam his hips up, almost curl his whole body into Frank's.

Frank's stomach dips and he groans, coming all over Gerard's groin, his dick slipping wetly down to Gerard's upper thigh as he rides the aftershocks.

"Jesus fuck, Frank," Gerard swallows, his belly doing flips when Frank relaxes on him and nuzzles his face against Gerard's collar.

"After all this? I think I have to cut your brother some slack," Frank mumbles, yawning wide while Gerard drapes his arms around him, holding Frank snug to his chest. Gerard wonders how much time they have, how much longer till the guys wobble back from the party, till his little brother finds them bare-assed and come-sticky, but decides that right now? Right now he couldn't care less.

Kissing the crown of Frank's head, Gerard murmurs, "If you really wanna freak Mikey out, you could just tell him what we did."

Frank snickers, groping for Gerard's dick and wrapping his fist around it, tight but gentle. "I don't know, we could just stay here like this and wait till he finds us all tangled up instead."

Gerard plants another kiss to Frank's head and amuses himself with the thought while Frank yawns again, so wide and long that his jaw clicks. In a short while they're both gonna get up and get dressed, and Frank's probably gonna spray the hell out of the seat with Brian's Febreze, but for now? For now they're both content where and how they are, and Gerard plans to enjoy it for a little while longer.


End file.
